Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkabanana
by Caseus
Summary: Oh noes! Jocular Brown has escaped from the wizard prison Azkabanana, and even the creepy Dementopeels can't find him. Will Harry be able to save the day once more ? And why does the new teacher, Professor Foxglove, enjoy eating puppy chow so much?
1. Hippofluffyducks

Harry Potter slowly switched on a torch, flinching at the small 'click'. Inching his hand slowly to the right, he meticulously peeled a page of a book to the left, and gave a start at the small sound it made. Feeling nervous, he held his doona above his head with a hand and, sitting stock still upon the bed, began to read about the goblin government during the 14th century. This was the best part of his day.

Harry shook his head. "Man, I'm such a _nerd."_

Social status aside, it gave him a small thrill to know that there was a magical world out there...a magical world which he could study only in the dead of the night. It certainly didn't help that the Dursleys, following the events of the previous summer, installed several thousand highly sensitive motion sensors in his room, which were constantly activated at night-time between the hours of nine and six.

He glared at these and cringed when he re-re-re-remembered the disastrous phone incident which had occurred several days ago.

*screen turns fuzzy while xylophone notes play in the background*

"Hello, Vernon speaking. If you're from the Awesome High-Class Lawn Club, thankyou dearly for the lovely sample of fertilizer. If you're selling a washing machine, you can go throw it into a hole."

"DAD, IT'S A MUGGLE! WHAT DO I DO?"  
"What the - who is this?"  
"ERM - HARRY'S FRIEND, FROM HOGWIMPS! RHON, THE REDHEAD!"

Uncle Vernon had slammed down the phone and turned to Harry, who was innocently eating cornflakes.  
"Rhon? I don't know a Rhon," he said.  
"You're grounded for the next fifteen years."  
"But I already am."

"For the next fifteen years after that, then. Have you been giving my phone number to strange people? How many times have I discussed that with you? If you want to talk with your creepy friends, use your mobile phone, boy!"  
"I don't have one. I use a hippoflufflyduck."  
"What? Is that a new type of iPod?"

*screen shimmers mysteriously*

Harry shook his head at the memory, and turned back to his assignment. That was when he first noticed a button on his wall labelled, "Sensor Control On/Off.

"Hey, that's handy!" he said merrily, turning the switch off.

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise outside his wall. He got out of bed and stared. Three hippoflufflyducks were trying their hardest to either 1) enter the room or 2) eat the window.

Harry quickly crabwalked over and opened the window. The three, very important looking hippofluffyducks swooped in, flew once round his room, dropped a small envelope on his bed, and then swooped off through the window again.

"Wow....swoopy," said Harry, opening the envelope.  
It was a letter. Obviously. And a newspaper clipping with a photo. Harry looked at the clipping.

It was something about the Weasley family winning a competition and going to Egypt. Harry grinned and looked at the photo. It was his friend Rhon and his family grinning and waving wildly. Almost too wildly. The small rat on Rhon's shoulder which hasn't been mentioned since the first book but now becomes somewhat important was looking rather uncomfortable. Harry briefly wondered why the rat wasn't dead from the heat or old age.

He will promptly forget this point, but you, reader, will not.

Because it's kind of important.


	2. Aunt Barge

"BOY!" screamed someone from downstairs. "COME DOWN AND GREET YOUR AUNT!"

Uncle Vernon seemed to have the unmatched (well, at least by Muggle standards unmatched) ability to speak entirely in capital letters when angry. Which was his constant mood anyway.

Harry rolled his eyes and slipped downstairs, ready to meet his lovely, morbidly obese (as most members of uncle Vernon's family seemed to be), dog loving Aunt Barge. Barge because she was the size of a Barge. Her real name was lost to time immemorial.

"Oh, he's still alive then?" Barge asked with the air of someone presented with a particularly delicious pickle, provided they were in Slummin, the world's greatest club of pickle-haters, and also Harry's rival house at school. (Because the fact that Grandmador frequently versus both Snuffeluf and Ravencoleslaw doesn't count).

"I thought he'd be gone by now." She said this distinct sentence with the air of someone annoyed at having to talk after the author had rambled on about pickles for a depressingly long sentence. For the record- I'm not sorry, Barge. I'm really not that sorry.

There was a large, very ugly dog, with a face only a shovel could love (and, in fact, quite probably had, several times), crouched by her ankles. Drool hung like two precarious icicles from its jowls.

The moment the dog saw Harry, its eyes turned a shade of lucid red and it would have lunged for his throat had not Aunt Barge (rather reluctantly) restrained it.

"Darn animal restriction laws," she muttered. "Tripper needs exercise. Trust me, he's not called that for nothing - it was just the other day when I caught him stringing a chain across the staircase. Seems to find it funny...anyway, where's my neffy poo?"

"Your...what?" asked Uncle Vernon.  
"You know - my Smudshie mushy! My charming pumpkin! My cutesie porpoise!"  
"Dudders? I think he's in his room breaking his 17th TV, being the active and sprightly youngster he is."  
"That's m'boy. When he's done, tell him Aunt Bargie's got a lovely new cheque for him."  
She clumped off towards the kitchen with Tripper trying vainly to obstruct her path.

Uncle Vernon turned to Harry. "You, boy," he said menacingly, "Watch your tongue. I've told Aunt Barge that a professional popcorn-maker has accepted you as their apprentice, so don't mention that ridiculous school."

An idea came to Harry. "If I keep quiet, will you sign this note? It's a permission slip that allows students to visit the town Hogs Vegas."  
It took quite a lot of convincing, along with several promises of eternal bathroom cleaning, but Uncle Vernon eventually agreed.

During dinnertime, Aunt Barge shot Harry a suspicious glance of annoyance.  
"Hey - what's with the suspicious glance of annoyance?" quipped Harry, never one to pass up the obvious.  
"I hope those popcorn-makers discipline you severely," she glowered. "Oddballs like you certainly need a lot of it."  
"Oh yeah, they do," said Harry. "They keep on throwing popcorn at me." He tried and failed to make an expression of misery.

"More eggnog, Barge?" offered Vernon, trying to change the subject.  
"Just a little, thanks. A bit more ... a bit more ... a bit more ... for heaven's sake, Vernon, don't be so stingy! More...more...good."  
She offered some to Tripper, but he was too busy tying her shoelaces together.

"Mmmm...that's good eggnog. Not like Harry's parents, though. They were bad eggs."  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Bad eggs?"  
Barge looked defiantly right back at him. "That's right, they were absolutely appalling yolks surrounded by layers of membranes and an outer casing."

Harry's expression turned dark, and a sparkly pink mist formed around him.  
"OI!" he whispered hurriedly to the backstage people.  
The mist was replaced by something green and smelly.  
"If you don't do this thing properly, I'm going to steal your spleens," he threatened.  
The mist turned dark and forbidding. Harry turned back to Barge.  
"Darn - I've forgotten my line!"  
Barge tried to prompt him. "My parents..."  
"That's right...MY PARENTS ARE NOT EGGS!"

He death-glared Barge, who suddenly seemed smaller. And smaller. And smaller. Until she was the size of an Oompa Loompa...a chicken...a stunted elephant...a midgety co-author...and finally, a flea.

"Flea-sized Aunt Barge! Can I keep it?" said Dudley in joy. "I shall hug it and squeeze it and call it George."  
"Absolutely not. Your goldfish are still swimming upside down and singing Shirley Bassey songs after what you did to them," said Aunt Petunia.

Uncle Vernon, however, could not adopt a similarly rational approach. He was so angry, in fact, that he couldn't speak, but Harry could read his expression very well - it distinctly said ONIONPEELINGDUTYFORTHENEXTSEVENYEARS.

Harry ran upstairs, grabbed his luggage and Hippofluffyduck, and surreptitiously crabwalked out of the house into the dark street.

"Various nondescript exclamations of adolescent angst!" Harry yelled, and began to run down the street.


	3. The Knight Sofa

He quickly left Privet Drive, passed Poinsettia Avenue, and shuffled quickly along Rhododendron Street, but by the time he came to Unusual-little-blue-flower-that-grows-under-the-patio Lane, he realized he was lost.

"Dernit. These street names could be a little more imaginative." He muttered. He sat down on the street corner and glared dolefully across the road to the little park, where a pair of swing swung very menacingly to eerie backing music. Suddenly, a huge black dog stepped out of the gloom.

"Here, doggy doggy doggy," Harry cooed, gesturing to the dog with his right hand. The dog gave him a bemused expression and stepped meaningfully backwards.

There was a very loud explosion, and a huge lime green Couchmobile flashed into existence in front of Harry.  
A very pimply young man leaned over the edge and stared at Harry. "Oi. You order the Knight-Sofa?"  
"Erm..." said Harry slowly. "Yeah?"  
"No you didn't. I can always tell when the young'uns stare at my pimples like they've never seen 'em before. Ah well. Hop in anyway!"

Harry did as he was bid, and nearly tripped over the steps.

"No need to mimic a pogo-stick, it's just a manner of speech," said the young man, evidently amused. "Anyway, the name's Stan. Say, is that a lightning-shaped scar you have on your forehead?"  
"Of course not!" said Harry, who tried to flatten his fringe only to realise he didn't have one.  
"Umm...I'm Shortrear. Trevor - I mean, Neville Shortrear," he continued quickly.  
Stan gave him a strange look. "Trevor Aymeen Neville Shortrear? A very long name, to be sure."  
"Well, my friends call me T-Unit for short," said Harry helpfully.  
"Right-o. Well, glad to meet you, T-Unit."  
"Likewise."

There was an awkward pause.

"So, where djah wanna go?" asked Stan.  
"Can I go anywhere in the world?"  
"O' course! The Knight-Sofa can travel anywhere. Unfortunately, we're banned from the North Pole after a certain undesirable incident involving Rudolph and several angry chipmunks, but there are heaps of other destinations. Candy Mountain is always a favourite."

"How much would it cost to get to Diaphragm Alley?"  
"40 sickles, but for 35 you get hot chocolate and a hot water kitty of your choice."  
"Why is it cheaper the more stuff you get?"  
"Erm...well, we don't really know what's in the hot chocolate."

Two hours later, Harry was happily snoozing with a bright purple and intensely fluffy hot water kitty. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a laughing madman trying to rip out his spleen.

"ARGGHHHH!" he screamed, only to realise he was looking at the front of a newspaper.

Stan's face looked down at him quizzically from the top of the newspaper. "Looking at that Jocular Brown, are you? Yeah, scary, scary man."  
Harry stared at the madman's face. "But he looks so - jolly!"  
"Ah," said Stan meaningfully, tapping his nose. "That's what's so strange about him. He was imprisoned in Azkabanana for more than ten years - but he never got depressed. In fact, he actually seemed to like bananas!"

Harry shuddered. "Why's he on the front page?"  
Stan shook his head. "He escaped. He got right past those Dementopeels."  
"Er - Dementopeels?"  
"The mystical guardians of Azkabanana. Don't get too close to them! Their fragrant banana scent will turn you insane."


	4. The Leaky Cauldron

Ten minutes later, they had arrived in Diaphragm Alley. Harry booked a fifth-class room in the Leaky Cauldron (which was highest level of luxury you could get in that place) and tried to ignore the sound of rabid salamanders slithering on the floor as he attempted to get some sleep. Tomorrow he would see what surprises lay in store for him in Diaphragm Alley.

"Good morning!" said a cheery, Rule-Britannia-and-God-save-the-queen kind of voice. A large man in a brown pinstripe three piece suit and a sparkly bowler hat grinned down at Harry.

"Gnargh!" Harry cried in alarm. It was Humphrey Toffeenose, Minister for Magic and who knows what else.  
"Just wanted to pop in to see you. Would you like a cucumber and watercress sandwich?"  
"Uh... no."  
"Tush. Ah well."

Harry wiped his bleary eyes and sat up. "So, am I arrested for underage wizardry?"  
"Heavens no!" Toffeenose cried in alarm. "Is it a crime to shrink one's aunt like a shrinky-dink?"  
"Yes," said Harry. "It says so several times in the wizard's charter."  
"Well, rules are made to be broken, Harry m'boy. I think it's alright just this once. We've re-longated her, and everything is as it was- but she is a little flatter. Though I must say, she is quite an attractive woman."

Seeing as how Toffeenose was roughly the size of a Sumo whale-shark after he quit the Atkins diet, the attraction was hardly unusual.

"Incidentally," Toffeenose added, "Your friends the Weasleys are here, as is Miss Spaynger. They wish to see you. And the Ministry has bought all your books for you..." He glanced over at the dresser of Harry's room, where there was a pile of textbooks. One particularly mean one scuttled about on tiny legs and snarled a lot.

"Delightful."

The book suddenly opened its pages to reveal a row of sharp paper teeth. It scampered towards Harry, who tried to squash it with his sneaker.

"Harry! You should really learn to take better care of your possessions. Anyway, I've gotta run. I was meant to be at an appointment with His Fuzziness the Bohemian Llama King two days and three hours ago..."

Toffeenose then Disapparated with a particularly self-satisfied pop.

After Harry had eaten some breakfast (pickle preserve and toast) he walked to Diaphragm Alley and stopped in front of his favourite shop, Shoddy Skeeditch Supplies. Standing outside, in all his red-headed freckled glory, was his best friend Rhon, who had appeared to have grown a foot. By his side was a very cheerful looking Hermitwo. Harry discerned the source of her happiness once he saw the massively ginormous sack she was carrying, which was full of more books than pasta letters in alphabet soup.

"Harry!" said Rhon, waving madly. "Check it out!"  
He gestured towards the shop's front window. Harry could only gape.

Sitting atop a purple velvet cushion, was the shiniest, sleekest, and most amazing Hoover Harry had ever seen in his life. Its nozzle seemed to proudly proclaim, "Oh yes. I'm great all right." And Harry had to agree. It was the

"It's just come out," said Rhon in awe. "The Fire Nanny 3000. Apparently it has an acceleration of zero to a kazillion miles per hour in ten seconds..."  
"And it's the best household cleaning companion you'll ever have!" chipper in Hermitwo.

Harry stared at the Fire Nanny. "WANT," he enunciated

"Well, it's pretty expensive," said Rhon. "The price is absolutely ridiculous, of course, but the shop owners want a couple of spleens as well."

Hermitwo glanced at the direction of the sun and made a few quick calculations in her head.  
"Enough looking at Hoovers, you two. I need to go and get my plot point - er, birthday present."  
"Yes, well," Rhon muttered. "Guess we have to go to the pet shop then."  
"Why?" Harry asked, trailing behind the others.  
"Need to get something for Scrappy. He's sick." Rhon rolled his eyes.  
"Scrappy... who's Scrappy?"  
Rhon gave Harry a bemused look. "Scrappy is my rat." He took a very shifty, depressed looking rat out of his pocket and waved it under Harry's nose.

Harry blunk. "You have a rat?"

"Look," Hermitwo snapped as they reached the window of the Pet Shop, "Harry, you really need to try and remember what plot points we've already mentioned or the Omnipotent Narrators will have to fill the audience in. And they won't like that."

No, we bloody well won't. *Shake collective fists*

"See?" She continued, with a fervent glance at the sky. "So you really need to keep Scrappy in mind, and- Rhon, stop waving that about!"

Rhon shot her a resentful look and stopped shoving Scrappy under Harry's nose.

They entered the shop with the sound of a bell tinkling.  
A pale, creepy man swarmed over to them. He seemed familiar...  
"Hey, aren't you Ollivander?" Harry asked.  
"Noooooo..." said the shop keeper. "I'm his brother. See? I have a moustache." He hastily grabbed something large, ginger and smelling like ancient shag carpet and held it under his nose.

Sorry all, we're short on extras.

The characters all stared for a moment at the roof with terrified expressions.  
"They're getting angry," Hermitwo whispered.

_No we're not. But we will be getting angry if you don't stop breaking the fourth wall. And we're in the mood for smiting._

Rhon whimpered.

"Oooh dear!" Hermitwo cried, waving her arms in an over dramatic way, as if to compensate her earlier disobedience. _That's right. She's not getting off that easily._ "You are holding a cat! May I have it?!?!"

Ollivander stared at her like she was insane, which was a distinct possibility. Then he-

_Rhon! Put that rat back in it's cage and put Scrappy back in your pocket. He's important!_

"Sorry," Rhon muttered, and did as he was told.

_Tch. Characters._

Ollivander handed the clump of bright orange fur to Hermitwo. Somewhere amongst the fluff, a pair of fangs emerged and hissed.  
"It's gorgeous!" said Hermitwo, elated. Harry could distinctly see all the Munchkin, Smurf, and Ronald McDonald dress-up possibilities flying through her head.  
"I'll give you five sickles if you take it out of this shop," said Ollivander, his eyes looking slightly bloodshot.

"Er...right," said Hermitwo, backing away while trying to look as though she wasn't trying to back away, which resulted in her crab-walking into a stand of canaries which chirped angrily and then started to nest in her hair.

Hermitwo buried her nose into the cat's enormously puffy back. "Mmm...smells like mothballs."

It was now Harry and Rhon's turn to crab-walk into a stand of canaries. These birds fully objected to touching Rhon's hair and instead starting trying to peck his eyes out.  
"Oi!" he snapped, trying to bat them away with a handy candelabrum. The same candelabrum, in fact, that Harry used to bonk in on the head in HPATPNRC.  
"I hug it and squeeze it and call it George!" said Hermitwo.  
"Sorry, that name's taken by my aunt who is currently living in an aquarium," said Harry.  
"Oh. Bother. Ok, it shall be Schnookworthy the Fuzzy. Or Ted, for short."  
"That name's taken too, in the fifth book," pointed out Rhon.  
"Oh, do zip it."

After buying school supplies, sweets, and extra toenail cream (Hermitwo insisted on this) Harry went back to the Leaky Cauldron and Rhon and Hermitwo returned to their houses. Since they had to get up early the next day to catch the Hogwimps Express, they all went to bed early. (Or at least, their parents thought so. In actual fact, they stayed up till 2 playing WoW.)


	5. The Dementopeel

The next day they arrived at Kings'R'Us with no mishaps, boarded the train with no difficulties, and left the station without event.

"Damn," Hermitwo said. "This trip has been so uneventful, I just know something is bound to happen."  
She peered into a cabin. "This one looks- oh, er..."  
The oh, er... of her sentence was clearly the dignified pile of rags curled up in the corner of the cabin.  
"Well," Rhon said disdainfully, "If we don't wake it, we should be all right."  
The three piled carefully into the cabin.  
"Who do you think he is?" Harry asked in awe, staring at the pile of rags, which from his angle seemed to actually be a man.

"He's called Romulus Foxglove," Hermitwo said. "He's thirty two years old, and his hobbies include running away from dangerous things and barking at chickens."  
Rhon stared at her. "And you know this how?"  
"It's written on the side of his suitcase," Hermitwo pointed.  
Harry mentally debated the wisdom of including a list of hobbies on ones suitcase. "So why is he on the train?"  
"Well," said Rhon knowledgeably, "they obviously haven't doused the train with hobo repellant yet."

Hermitwo smacked him smartly between the shoulders with Hogwimps: a History. Due to the size of the book, Rhon received a mild concussion.  
At that moment, a dark mist descended and the train slowed, then stopped. A horrible stench of bananas filled the length of the car. The three exchanged glances when a long, lady finger pressed against the door and slid it open.

"Baaaaaanaaaaaaanaaaaaaaaa," hissed a huge, yellow cloak with brown patches.  
Harry felt faint. A little way off, he was sure he heard a scream. Then there was only black, and yellow mush...

After what seemed like an age, Harry was woken by Rhon's particularly shrill singing, and also a slap to the face with what looked like a large lolcat.

"I can has slap?" said Schnookworthy.  
Harry rubbed his eyes. "Where - where did all the mush go?"  
Hermitwo looked anxiously at him. "There was never any mush, Harry!"  
Harry blunk. "There was too!"

A loud crinkling noise interrupted them. They turned to the pile of rags in the corner and instead saw a lucid-faced man busily tearing apart a plastic bag of tomatoes.

"Here, eat these," he said, chucking a few at Harry and accidentally catching his face. "The only known repellant against banana-loving creatures."

"Like monkeys?"  
"Yep."  
"Including Japanese monkeys?"  
"Especially Japanese monkeys."  
"And Crab-eating Macaques?"  
"Especially Crab-eating Macaques."  
"But...Crab-eating Macaques eat crabs..."  
"Just shut up and eat the damn tomato."

As Harry chewed, he contemplated silently. "So, um...what happened?" he asked.

"It was a Dementopeel," said Foxglove. "One of the many sinister, cliché guardians of Azkabanana."

"It was really weird," said Rhon, who seemed to be trying to suppress a giggle. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started saying Peashooter....peashooter...over and over again."

Harry looked rather confounded, to say the very least.

"Don't worry, Harry, we're here for you...no matter what eccentricities you exhibit," said Rhon in a serious tone, while Hermitwo snorted in a corner and tried to act as though she hadn't.

"But didn't any of you - fall of your seats?" said Harry awkwardly. (ZOMG this is an actual quote!!1 Rowling, 1999:67).  
"No," said Rhon. "Schnookworthy did start to dance the rumba, though.

"Can has DJ plz?" said Schnookworthy.  
Hermitwo shook her head sadly. "I can't believe I got a lolcat for my birthday. I really want a refund now."

As the train pulled into Hogs Vegas Station, the third-years gathered around some horseless carriages.

"I assume they're powered by very advanced magic," said Hermitwo in a snooty tone. "I would hazard a guess at a Transport Charm."

"Eurgh! Something just nibbled my sleeve!" cried Neville. "And I smell horse."  
"Don't be silly, Neville," Hermitwo chastised.

They alighted into the carriages which promptly transported them to Hogwarts castle.  
"Are those...hoofsteps I hear?" Harry asked Rhon.  
"Nah. Probably just coconuts."

The students entered the Great Hall and a wave of déjà vu flooded their minds at the sight of the candlelit pumpkins, rows of black-robed students, and a familiar white beard at the front of the Hall. Once they had all sat down, Albie Dumbledork cleared his throat and started to speak.

"Welcome back to Hogwimps, small children. I would like to remind you of a few things before we begin our scrumptious meal- The forbidden forest is off limits, as usual, to anyone keen on keeping the majority of their pancreas inside their respective bodies. This is especially true this year, for reasons as yet to become apparent. The Smashing Shrub is also off limits, as is the-" he was interrupted by a loud coughing fit from Foxglove- "...-neath it. Also, we would like to welcome Hiphag as our new Professor of the Study of Magical Kleenex." He nodded to Hiphag, who had seemed to grow larger, swelling with pride under his Legalize Marijuana robes.

"And, of course, with Jocular Brown on the loose, the Dementopeels will be patrolling the school grounds relentlessly, inspiring fear into various students while being generally inefficient. Now remember, if Brown was after any student other than Harry Potter, I wouldn't bat an eyelid happily handing them over to whatever fate awaited them. But since it's Harry he's after..." he looked fondly over at Harry, who for perhaps the millionth time in his life attempted to sink into the ground. Although this still didn't happen, he found that hiding beneath the table was a fair substitute.

"CANDY FOR ALL!!!!" Dumbledork shrieked, and for no particular reason, candy began to fall like rain from the ceiling.

Harry already had three pumpkin pasties stuffed in his mouth before he began feeling oddly woozy. Eyelids drooping, he then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Before he passed into the realm of unconsciousness, however, he could have sworn he heard Dumbledork say, "Just a few shots of chloroform, Minerva, that's all that's needed for a bit of quiet in this place..."


	6. Earl Grey Tea

Harry found it slightly weird to find himself in his usual four-poster bed when he woke up the next morning, but decided to shrug the mystery off. After all, he had the best thing ever to look forward to - the first day of school! *cue in ponies and lollipops falling from the ceiling*

When Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo entered the Great Hall for breakfast, the first thing they saw was Darko Malfoil with a lampshade on his head. He was doing an - admittedly rather funny - impersonation of Harry in front of the whole school.

"Peashooter!" he screeched. "Peashooter!"

"Just ignore him, Harry," said Rhon, his ears red with the effort of holding back a laugh.

"Yeah, what a twerp," said Hermitwo, disguising her sniggers as a succession of guttural hiccups.

Hermitwo's mood brightened even further when the third-years received their timetables halfway through breakfast. "Yay! Triple Arithmetic first up, followed by Muggleology! SCORE!!!"

"Erm...Hermitwo?" Rhon snatched her timetable and squinted at it. "I think the Head of Studies made a mistake. They've got you down for twelve subjects a day."

"Stop fussing, Rhonda," snapped Hermitwo, snatching it back. "I'm the epitome of time-management, remember?"  
"Yeah...but -"  
"But what?"  
"You have seven lessons at the exactly same time this afternoon."  
"Pass the pickle preserve."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand. (Rowling 1997:76 - yet another direct quote!! It's darn hard to make this parody funnier than the original already is!!)

Harry looked at his timetable and groaned when he read out his first lesson.  
"Divination for Dingbats," he said. "This can't be good..."

Harry was right. His prediction was confirmed when he and Rhon ran into the classroom, panting, half an hour after the lesson had begun.  
A large, glittering stick insect with enormous eyes standing at the front of the classroom demanded to know why they were late.

Harry put on his glasses and saw a teacher materialise from the blur.

"Rhon and I walked into a random wardrobe and were transported to a magical land of snow and talking beavers," he said truthfully. "We helped to defend its innocent occupants against an evil female warlord, and then reigned there as kings for many years."

The teacher blinked slowly at them. "Just as I predicted. Please take a seat, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. It is nice to see both of you in the physical realm at last, though I never suspected your hair would be such a garish shade, Rhonda. You may call me Professor Tealeaf."

She turned to the rest of the class. "Well, what are you waiting for? Start drinking your tea, and read the meaning of the dregs to your partner. I'm expecting a lot of tragic foreshadowing, so get moving, people."

"But I hate Earl Grey..." said Rhon dolefully.

"Look into the teeeeeeeeaaaaaaa...." Professor Tealeaf said again, swooping around like a large swoopy thing.  
"Scull, scull, scull!" said everyone else.  
"Well," Rhon muttered, glancing into Harry's tea-cup. "I see a daisy... according to The Art of Ripping People Off, I Mean, Fortune Telling, that means death... uhm... alright..."  
Harry stared into Rhon's cup. "Here's something that looks like a potato... that means death as well."

"And here's a blob shaped like the Isle of Wight," said Rhon. "That means death too."  
They boys exchanged glances.  
"Well," Hermitwo said shortly. "I have a sheep, and that means love."  
"No it doesn't," Professor Tealeaf wailed, leaning over Hermitwo's shoulder. "It means death- DEATH BY WEREWOLF!!!!!"

""That's rather specific," Hermitwo replied.  
"No it's not," Tealeaf replied earnestly. "I didn't say which werewolf."  
"Good, I don't have any of those," Harry replied. "I've just got this one thing here that looks like a Scotsman..."  
"EGAD!" Tealeaf shrieked, flinging her hands into the air. Two girls over the other side of the room gasped. "The Scotsman! That means... that means..."  
"Death?" asked Hermitwo.

Tealeaf gave Hermitwo a withering look. "Of course not dear, you really don't understand this subject. Clearly it means- DEATH...."  
"That's what I said-"  
"BY HAGGIS!"

There was shocked silence. Then Hermitwo stood up very calmly, and collected her books.

"Thank you for wasting several minutes of my valuable life." she said coolly. "I shall endeavour to forget that this subject exists. Goodbye."

"You dare to quit my class? Well, you had better be careful on the 17th of October, young lady - I foresee great danger involving you, a dentist, and several packets of prunes. Good day."

"For your information," Hermitwo snapped, "I happen to like prunes."  
And with that, she stalked out of the classroom with her nose at 20 degrees to the vertical.

After sculling some Ribena to rid the taste of the Earl Grey, Harry and Rhon headed down to their next lesson, Study of Magical Kleenex, which was located outside on the Hogwimps' grounds. By the time they got there, Hiphag was ready for the lesson with three large boxes of tissues. He was wearing a large woolly turtleneck with suspicious-looking green leafy patterns imprinted upon it.

Darko appeared to be snorting at said turtleneck with his cronies.  
"Shut it, Darko," said Harry.  
"Peashooter!" Darko retorted, evidently thinking this was very witty.  
"You're a peashooter!" replied Rhon.  
"Zip it, you lot, or I'll peashooter you!" growled Hiphag. Everybody immediately went silent.

"Righ', so here we have three brands of tissues. Two Muggle ones (Kleenex and Sorbent) and my personal wizarding favourite, Fuzzy Logic 7-Ply Happy Hankies. They can clear up everything from flu's to spilt paint. Buy two boxes from Diaphragm Alley for half price." (Mwahaha, who says we can't have subliminal advertising?)

"Now," said Hiphag, "I'll be introducing you to a new type of creature this lesson. Incidentally, it has severe hay fever. We will be testing which brand of tissue is most effective on it."

He motioned the class to back away.

"Careful," he warned. "The Charlieduck is a creature of such delicate sensitivity and mind-numbing strength, that so much as a hiccup from one of you could induce it to go on a ferocious rampage."  
Everyone held their breath, though Hermitwo couldn't prevent a little squeak.

Hiphag whistled, and there was a loud rustling from a grove of trees nearby. Then there was silence. The tension was so great you could've whacked it with a large rolling pin.  
Then - from the depths of a copse - a chubby animal, about four feet tall, waddled out.  
It had the head, torso and wings of a fluffy yellow duck, and the rear of a pony. The Charlieduck looked at the class lazily, and sneezed all over a rock.

"PSYCHE!" said Hiphag. "Fooled youz all. Now, 'fore we start work - would anyone like ter try riding it?"  
Harry raised a tentative hand. "Hiphag, could I please be excused to go to the toile-"  
"Excellent!" roared Hiphag. "Glad to see such an enthusiastic volunteer. Come along, Harry."

Harry mentally kicked himself in his mental shin, then stepped forward and hoisted himself onto the Charlieduck's back. It promptly dropped to the ground and started snoring.

"Er - maybe it isn't a good day," said Hiphag awkwardly. "Right-o, back to the Kleenex, everybody."

Forty minutes later, Harry tossed aside the tissue box with a relief.  
"Glad that's over," he said to Rhon and Hermitwo.

As he looked back to wave goodbye to Hiphag, he saw Malfoil poking the Charlieduck with a stick. It opened a lazy eye and emitted a sheet of flame over his overly-gelled hair. Malfoil shrieked and said, "My father is going to sue the pants off you!"

Hiphag ambled up and growled, "Animals don't wear pants, buddy. Considered yerself lucky that all the gel helped most of yer hair ter stay on."

He looked back to wave goodbye to Hiphag - when he turned back, Hermitwo was missing.

"Wha-?"  
She appeared suddenly on the spot, then flickered again out of view.  
"Darn time magic..." she was muttering. "Wish I had a TARDIS…"  
"Uhm...Hermitwo?" asked Rhon, poking her when she appeared again.  
"Oh hai!" she said, putting on a strained smile.

"What was that about? Does this have something to do with all the classes you're taking?"  
"Pass the pickle preserve."

"You can't use that excuse here, Hermitwo, we're not at the breakfast table anymore.  
"Bother! Never mind, don't worry about it."

Rhon looked at Harry and raised his eyebrows significantly. Harry looked back and raised a single eyebrow. Rhon nodded. Harry burped.

"If the two of you are finished with your eyebrow conversation, we should be getting to Defence Against the Dark Aardvark," said Hermitwo.


	7. The Bollywobble

It didn't take long before the group had arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Aardvark classroom. They entered it tentatively, choosing seats near the back in case their new teacher was a biter.

Foxglove waltzed into the classroom. Literally.  
"Come on children!" he called. "Get up! Let's get physical!" He tapped a knob on an ancient radio.

_Let's get physical, physical..._ Kylie bawled loudly from the speakers. Foxglove twitched, then changed the channel. "Sorry," he apologized, "but I hate Kylie. But how about some Frank Sinatra?"

The students raised as one, and waited for Foxglove to start the lesson proper.  
"Now!" He shouted above Somewhere Beyond the Sea, "Who knows what a Bollywobble is?"  
Rhon flushed, and started to raise his hand. "Sir, that's what my dad calls my mu-"  
Foxglove twitched again. "My dear boy, I did NOT want to hear that. Ever. But Miss Hermitwo, I believe you know?"

Hermitwo cleared her throat after. "Ahem. A Bollywobble is a creature that has a formless shape until it encounters a human being. When it does, it changes into the object that causes them the most embarrassment. Needless to say, very few wizards are willing to encounter a Bollywobble in front of their acquaintances."

"That's right," said Professor Foxglove cheerfully. "Indeed, Merlin himself mysteriously disappeared for two months after a Bollywobble turned into his mother in front of a large squadron of nights. It was a pity that he didn't attempt to perform the simple spell that would repel the Bollywobble."

"What is that spell, sir?" asked Harry.

"Simply the incantation "donotwant." While you say it, you must be thinking of anything BUT a purple elephant. For if you don't, the Bollywobble will follow you in the form of the object that causes you the most embarrassment for the rest of your life, or at least until you manage to find the kidney stone of an Appenian mountain ogre. But I digress. We'd best get started, class."

He motioned to wardrobe in the corner which was trembling slightly.

"No, children, this isn't the one that leads to Narnia," he said, as Parvati, Lavender and (though he tried not to show it) Neville sighed in disappointment. "That's located in the Charms classroom. Today, each of us will be facing the Bollywobble, and attempting to perform the incantation I told you earlier. As we are all such good friends" - here he grinned brightly at Malfoil trying to stick a large pineapple into Rhon's back pocket - "I trust that none of you will taunt anyone else for what the Bollywobble turns into. Let us begin - you first, Neville!"

Neville gulped and inched forward. The wardrobe door flew open and his grandmother strode out, holding a younger, wailing version of him by the ear. Neville raised his wand and said "Donot-"

"ZOMG PURPLE ELEPHANT!" shrieked Malfoil.

The Bollywobble version of his grandma pinched the real Neville by his ear and cackled evilly. Foxglove threw an emergency banana at the Bollywobble and it retreated, hissing.

"Bad idea, Darko," he reprimanded. "I don't have any more bananas, so no more tricks on your part. As you seem so eager to be a part of things, you may go next."

Malfoil inched towards the Bollywobble. "Uh... heh heh. Nice Bolly-"  
Poof! The Bollywobble turned into a replica of Malfoil, but instead of his black robes, it was wearing tight jeans and a Hannah-Montana t-shirt.  
"WOOT!" the Bollywobble screeched in a fair imitation of Malfoil. "Sing Believe in Your Dreams (because dreams help pay the Disney Corporations bills)!"  
Shaking, Malfoil muttered "Donotwant", and the Bollywobble, with an audible foop, changed into a lurid orange baseball cap.

"Very good, very good," Foxglove cried exuberantly. "Next! Rhon! How about you?"  
Rhon stepped forwards, and the Bollywobble poofed into his mother.  
"Oh, c'mon," Rhon scoffed. "That's not very embarrassing."  
"RHONDA ELIZABETH GLADYS WILFREDA WEASLEY!" the Bollywobble shrieked.  
Rhon went a pale shade of fluorescent red. "Donotwant!" he called, shaking.

Each person went up successively, with weirder and weirder embarrassments. Lavender nearly burst into tears when her Bollywobble turned into a bowl of porridge. Dean Thomas's Bollywobble resembled something green and wobbly, and he went deathly pale at the very sight of it. Finally, the Bollywobble came to Foxglove. With a weird ping, it changed into a can of dog food.  
"Ah ha ha..." Foxglove laughed weakly. "Donotwant."

With a pang, it turned into a balloon and floated towards Harry. Harry steeled himself, ready, but Foxglove suddenly jumped towards it and with a burst of sparks from his wand, sent it hurtling back towards the wardrobe.  
"Sorry, Harry," Foxglove muttered from the corner of his mouth. "Can't let the Dark Lord appear in the middle of a classroom."  
"But I'm not afraid-" Harry began, but Foxglove was already halfway across the room, locking the wardrobe.

"Sorry, Harry," Foxglove muttered from the corner of his mouth.  
"But -" Harry began, but Foxglove was already halfway across the room, locking the wardrobe.

"That was an odd DADA lesson," said Rhon as they left the classroom. "I wonder why Foxglove is so embarrassed about dog food?"  
"Perhaps because he has a liking for minced offal?" shrugged Hermitwo. "I wish I had the chance to face the Bollywobble as well."  
"What would it be for you?" said Rhon, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"  
"Actually, no. It is something that will only be hinted in the sixth book," said Hermitwo, miffed. "And for your information, nine out of ten is actually GOOD!"  
"Hermitwo," said Rhon nervously, "Stop breaking the fourth wall! Didn't you hear the authors' threats a few chapters ago?"

_One more time, Hermitwo, and SOMEONE won't be passing all their classes this year…_

"Neep!"


	8. Brown's First Move

Over the next few weeks, the trio spent divided their time amongst schoolwork, catching up on sleep, and grumbling about Divination for Dingbat lessons. Professor Teabag was becoming steadily more annoying – Harry thought she was crossing the line when she handed the whole class a sheet of paper with run down of Harry's deteriorating luck until his untimely death at age 37 by Snoogles.

"What the heck is a Snoogle, anyway?" asked Rhon.  
"You don't know what a Snoogle is?" said a girl from the next table incredulously. Harry noted her radish earrings and the leek sticking out of her left nostril, and decided that his ignorance on the subject of Snoogles was probably a good thing.

That evening in Grandmador tower, Schnookworthy jumped up onto Hermitwo's lap chewing on a medium-sized tarantula. He stared at Rhon with large yellow eyes and said, "Oh hai."

"EEEEEEeeaauurghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!" squealed Rhon. "Get it away, get it away!"  
The last couple of legs disappeared into the cat's mouth and Rhon breathed a sigh of relief which was quickly cut short when Schnookworthy leapt for his rat, Scrappy, who was sitting contentedly on the desk chewing at Harry's potions essay. Scrappy emitted a noise which sounded suspiciously like the word "Bother" and disappeared into a handy pile of marshmallows.  
"Oi!" said Colin Creepy, extremely peeved. "I bought those especially for Harry Potter!"

Schnookworthy considered diving into the marshmallows after Scrappy, but all the white fluffiness seemed to deter him.  
"You keep that lolcat to yourself, Hermitwo!" said Rhon angrily. "If it weren't for Colin Creepy's irrational adoration of Harry, my only pet could have been eaten!"  
"In his defence, Schnookworthy just had dinner!" Hermitwo sniffed.  
"If you're referring to that dirty big arachnid –"  
"Enough, enough, children!" chastised Harry. "Let us forget these petty disagreements and continue with the important duty of completing our homework. Can I copy your essay, Hermitwo?"

Harry could not manage to be quite as cool-headed, however, when Professor McGallstone informed him that although he did a pretty impressive forgery of his Uncle's signature, handwriting skills were by no means going to enable him to visit Hogs Vegas with the rest of his grade. Harry threw a tantrum and blew up several school desks, but no avail. He simply wasn't allowed to go.

"Its okay, Harry," said Hermitwo. "We'll tell you all about it when we get back – especially about the powerful taste of Butterwhisky and the complementary mint pixies. Mmmmmm."

"And we'll bring you back heaps of sweets from Sugar King," said Rhon. "Well, as long as I don't finish them all off, at least. They have darn nice confectionary at that place."  
Harry glared and pouted, stomping away in what he hoped was in an extra loud and angry manner.

A door swung open in the corridor and Foxglove's head poked out. "Oi, keep it down! Wait, it's just angsty Harry Potter. Come in and check out my new weird creatures."  
Harry entered Foxglove's office and was attacked by a battalion of Feegles.  
"Hey, stop stealing my inventions!" said Terry Pratchett, running in and looking quite irritated. "It took me ages to think of a species of non-generic fairy and once I do, everyone takes the idea!"

_Oh, fine then._

Harry entered Foxglove's office and noticed a large cage full of green creatures with sharp little horns.  
"Grindylows," said Foxglove. "They pack quite a punch but give them a teddy and they'll do anything you ask. Lipton or Chai?"  
"Er – you drink tea in the middle of the day?"  
"Why ever not? It soothes the mind and slows down fur growth." He sipped from his cup with his eyes closed. "Sorry, did I just say fur growth? I meant headaches. Yeah, headaches."

He opened his eyes and put his cup down.  
"Harry, I have an apology to make. About the Bollywobble the other day – well, Professor Dumbledork told me all about the incident involving your cousin Dudley, several turnips and a permanent marker on your ninth birthday." He gave Harry a sympathetic expression. "Nothing could induce me to have that replayed again."  
"Well, actually, Professor Foxglove," said Harry. "I was thinking of something even more mortifying. You see, that Dementopeel on the Hogwimps Express – "  
"Ah, of course. How could I have overlooked that? Well, we have to be fair and remember it was the first time you had ever encountered one. But Harry – out of curiosity – what was with the peashooter?"

Harry didn't know what to say, so he drank some tea.  
"Uh – that would be my cup, Harry," said Foxglove.  
"Whoops," said Harry.

The office door opened suddenly and Snap walked in holding a goblet full of something green and smelling of peanuts. "Drink up, Romulus," he said nastily. "Perhaps this will prevent the chickens from being terrorised again."

For some odd reason Foxglove looked a bit ashamed, and he did as he was bid. Harry escaped the office as quick as he could, but not before sticking a large "Kick Me" sign to the back of Snap's robes.

Two hours later, Hermitwo and Rhon returned with a large bag full of…well, sweet wrappers.  
"Sorry Harry," said Hermitwo apologetically, "But the toffee vampires were so good!"  
"I saved you a couple of Cockroach Clusters, though," said Rhon, ever the helpful one.

They headed back to Grandmador tower, but something was different. The portrait of the hitherto unmentioned Fat Lady (hey, we try our best!) was slashed to pieces, its occupant gone. Students had crowded around the painting, and Professor Dumbledork himself was there as well, conversing with Peeves the Poltergeist.  
"Did she say who did it?"  
"Oh yes," said Peeves. "He was so exasperated when she wouldn't let him in that he threw a couple of fish cakes at her before attacking the canvas with a dagger. Has an odd affinity for fish cakes, Jocular Brown does."

Even though it was proclaimed in poorly-spoken Yoda speech, everyone gasped aloud at this statement.

"Jocular Brown!" Rhon hissed to Harry. "He must... must be trying to kill you!"  
"Thanks, numbnuts," Hermitwo replied shortly. "We didn't figure that one out." She rolled her eyes expressively.  
Dumbledork looked so grave that he was developing rigor mortis. "Children," he declared. "You must sleep in the Great Hall tonight."

When Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo arrived in the Great Hall several minutes later, it was already full of sleeping bags, and some first years had lit a camp fire and were roasting marshmallows, while Professor Trashcan flailed wildly, trying to put it out, but not having much luck, being completely intangible.  
The three friends chose sleeping bags in close proximity, and settled down to sleep.  
When the hall had quieted down, Harry opened his eyes and gazed at the enchanted ceiling, watching the clouds waft about.

"Goodness gracious- this is quite a shock." McGallstone's voice floated through the air. "Where is Romulus?"  
"Oh," came Snap's snide drawl. "Didn't you know? It's his... cough cough time of the month."  
"His what?" asked Professor Flotwack, yet another unmentioned character.  
"His... you know... furry little problem." Snap chortled to himself.  
"Pardon?" Professor Sprout appeared at Snap's elbow. Several other professors drifted towards Snap, curious.

"His... dammit, how can I think of a double entendre with all you people crowding around me? His... you know what."  
"What?" the teachers chorused.

Snap scowled ominously. "How can I foreshadow this properly with all you people cramping my style? Foxglove is away because he is sick. He gets sick every month."  
"But how, Severus?" Professor Flotwack asked innocently.

"I'll make you get sick if you don't go away," Snap snarled. Flotwack quickly crabwalked to the other side of the hall. The other teachers disbanded with him, leaving only McGallstone.

"Very well handled, Severus," she said dryly.  
Snap flushed in anger and stalked away.  
"Goodness!" McGallstone snapped. "We haven't even talked about how Brown wants to kill Harry and eat his gooey gooey insides! All because he is Harry's godfather!" She hurried after Snap.

Harry curled up tightly in his sleeping bag and wished he hadn't heard what had just transpired.


	9. A Skeeditch Defeat

Over the next few days, gossip about Jocular Brown was ricocheting off the social walls with more gusto than Colin Creepy with a camera. Harry began noticing teachers and older students making excuses to walk along corridors with him. Percy Weasley amused him very much when he mumbled (pompously) that he was allergic to all the other corridors.

Even Professor Tealeaf played her part with diligence – but then again, she just claimed that the voices were telling her to follow Harry because they could sense his imminent death.

Things became even dismal when Professor McGallstone took him aside after class and said in a serious voice, "Ahem. Potter, I cannot stress how very serious this very serious situation is. Quite seriously, I must inform you very seriously that –"  
"I know Jocular Brown wants to eat my gooey gooey insides," said Harry gloomily. "No need to rub it in."  
Professor McGallstone looked rather taken aback. "Actually, Potter, I just wanted to remind you that Hogwimps regards laundry to be of great importance. You will clean your socks or else. All your roommates have been complaining about the multitudes of fungus growths in your dormitory."  
"Oh," said Harry. "Great."

Even more disheartening than fungus growths was the forthcoming Skeeditch match against Snuffeluff. The weather was growing steadily worse, with heavy fog and bouts of acid rain. The Grandmador team tried to train as much as they could, but it was rather hard when sizzling droplets of hydrogen fluoride ate into the Quaffle and the Snitch, leaving gaping holes.

"Ouchies," said Schwoodde, their team captain. "According to Wikipedia, this is an acid poison and should be treated a water wash and 2.5% calcium gluconate gel."  
"Schwoodde, we don't do Chemistry at Hogwimps, remember?" said Harry.  
"Oh yeah! Awesome!" said Schwoodde happily, as his glove fell off his hand in tattered pieces.

"You have to be careful, though," he said to Harry, pointing a rather acid-eaten looking fingernail at him. "Snuffeluff have a new Seeker – his name's Cedar Higgory. I don't see what's so good about him myself, but as he has 27 unregistered fan clubs throughout the school I have a feeling this match is going to be harder than we think."  
"Touche," said Harry.

As Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo walked into DADA that afternoon, they were greeted with Snap throwing mini ninja stars at their foreheads. After ducking several times, they hastily took their seats.  
"I am your substitute teacher today," said Snap, looking like Christmas had come early. (Wait, Snap hates Christmas anyway. Okay, he looked like he had just set fire to Santa's beard.)

"Where's Professor Foxglove?" asked Hermitwo.  
"Oh, he's ill," said Snap nastily. "He has a very severe *fuzzy* cold."  
"I've never known him to miss class before," said Rhon.  
"Well, yes, he is often mysteriously ill at around *full moon* this time of month. Excuse me, I have a little cough myself. *Cough* He's a *cough* werewolf *coughity cough*"

"Butterscotch Menthol, Professor?" Hermitwo offered.  
"No! Zip it. And all of you have until the rest of this lesson to hand in a three thousand word essay on the importance of blue mucus in a Purple Peruvian Cane Toad's immune system. So get cracking."

Needless to say, Harry wasn't very pleased when Snap set them a foot-high pile of homework. He tried to flatten it by jumping up and down on it, but Hermitwo reminded him that he wasn't lessening the workload. After ploughing through three inches of it, it was past midnight and he went to bed.

He woke up early the next morning for the Skeeditch match: Grandmador verse Snuffeluff. He suddenly realised that Schwoodde was doing his morning wake-up rituals in the other dormitories and zipped as fast as he could to the Grandmador changing room. After the whole team had changed into their bright scarlet robes, they walked out onto the pitch and were nearly blown away (literally) by an immensely heavy gust of wind.

"Whoo!" said Lord Stumpy. "Well, that was an immensely heavy gust of wind."  
Harry looked to the grandstands and saw several first years being buffeted by the wind and flying around other peoples' heads. He shivered slightly. That was not a good sign.

The game started, and the only things Harry could see were piles upon piles of grey fog and green acid rain, which looked oddly pretty in the whole scope of things. He saw a glint of gold, and swiped for it.  
"Ow! That was my eyeshadow!" said Katie Ding-a-ling furiously. As she reached for her eye, she dropped the Quaffle. A Snuffeluff player grabbed it and promptly scored a goal.  
"Whoops," said Harry.

He decided to content himself with circling the pitch and trying to dodge the acid rain. As he passed Snap, he noticed the many holes in his large black hat and couldn't suppress a little snigger. It was in that moment when a horrible scent filled his nostrils…the smell of…bananas…and there was only black. Oh, and yellow mush. Ewwwwww.

He vaguely remembered hearing Dumbledork yelling something, and seeing a large, black, hairy animal sitting totally inconspicuously in the middle of the Skeeditch stands, but remembered nothing else.

When he awoke, Harry's first thought was 'Bugger'. Followed by 'Well, this is embarrassing', 'Where's my broom?', 'Who was that incredibly hunky Snuffeluf player' and 'Wooble'. He rolled over and met Dumbledork's gaze.  
"Uh..." Harry said.  
"Why, hello, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"Lousy," Harry replied honestly. "And a little creeped out. Why are you in my bed?"  
Dumbledork gave Harry a very stern look. "I'm hiding from fangirls, but I'm afraid I've chosen my hiding spot rather poorly. Anyway, to business. I'm afraid you passed out over the Skeeditch pitch. It is suffice to say that I am very angry at the Dementopeel's and I have been sure to withhold their whipped cream rations. They won't be coming into the school grounds for quite a while. Also, sadly, your broom has been destroyed."

Harry gaped, stared, and gaped some more. "Destroyed!" he cried. "But how? Why?"  
"I'm afraid it flew into the Smashing Shrub. Soz mate."


	10. The Secret Plan

After a night in the Hospital Wing, the matron allowed Harry to leave with only one arm in a cast, and a new retainer. He spat the retainer into the nearest bin he passed, and, after a few minutes of hacking, managed to remove the cast as well. Just as he was flicking the last piece of plaster in the bin, Foxglove appeared at his elbow.

The professor looked more tired and worn than ever, and when he held out a hand, Harry could see bite marks around his wrist.

"Huh," Harry thought. "I wonder where Foxglove was during Defence Against the Dark Aardvark."  
"Hi, Harry," Foxglove smiled. "I saw what happened at the Skeeditch game. Don't you have any idea of how to handle a Dementopeel?"  
Harry stared at him blankly.

Foxglove sighed. "Your father wasn't as stup- I mean, as defenceless as you. Come on. Dumbledork has asked me to teach you a Cliens charm. Also, to allow for some bonding time. Who knows what those fangirls think goes on behind closed doors."  
As they walked down the corridor, Foxglove glanced behind him, as if afraid fangirls might leap out from behind a statue of his Grand Fuzziness the Bohemian Llama King.  
"You knew my father?" Harry asked Foxglove, struggling to keep up with the teacher's steady lope.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I knew him. We were in the same year, in Grandmador." Foxglove became a little misty eyed. "Good old days. We used to pick on Sna- uh, Peter Pettigr- uhm... we used to sneak around behind teachers bac-... I mean, I can't remember what we did back then. A lot of homework. Yeah. That sounds about right."  
They came to the Defence Against the Dark Aardvark classroom, and slipped inside. The wardrobe with the Bollywobble stood in one corner, quivering slightly.

Foxglove turned to Harry. "Now, I don't think that the incident which occurred on your ninth birthday is in fact your most embarrassing moment. I consider your reaction to the Dementopeels to be much more pathe- that is, discomforting. When you face the Dementopeel coming out of that wardrobe, I want you to think as hard as you can of tomatoes."  
"Tomatoes?" asked Harry.  
"Tomatoes," said Foxglove.  
"Umm…why?"

"Because, Harry, tomatoes are the only food that have the wonderful redness and deliciousness the counter the awful taste and texture of bananas. If you become really good at it, the spirit of tomatokind –"  
"What?"  
"Don't interrupt me, Harry. As I was saying, the spirit of tomatokind will defend you with a spectacularly strong tomato shield. This is known as a Tomatus. That's why throwing tomatoes at Dementopeels repels them, and eating tomatoes after encountering them does wonders for you, see? But as we aren't likely to carry around bottles of ketchup wherever we go, it is well worth knowing how to keep one's mind focused on this magnificent vegetable and learn how to conjure up a Tomatus. Azkabanana relies on the putrid squishiness of bananas to drive its prisoners insane. You must resist it, Harry, you must resist it!"

Harry stared at him with his mouth hanging open slightly when Foxglove had finished monologuing. "Tomatoes? You mean…the stuff they smear on pizza bases?"  
Foxglove gave Harry a withering look. "One day you will understand the true extent of their myriad uses. Few people realise that it was actually the essence of tomato which powered the first rocket to the moon. But we really must be getting on now."  
He pointed his wand at the wardrobe and the door flew open.

Again, Harry was overcome with the dank and overly-sweet smell of bananas as a yellow-robed figure, adorned with brown patches, walked out. In his head, he envisioned a large red tomato smashing the Dementopeel to bits. But the tomato became blurry, and then morphed into a red banana.  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" yelled Harry as he fainted yet again.

When Harry awoke, Foxglove was placidly humming some Mozart.

"Not overly terrible for your first try," he said, handing Harry some packets of ketchup.  
"Dude, that's so cheap," said Harry. "You could have at least bought a couple of tomatoes."  
"I'd like to see _you_ buy high-priced veggies with a teacher's salary. Cheerio, then!"

As he walked back to Grandmador tower, he bumped into Fred and Lord Stumpy. They were looking even more devious than usual.  
"Hey, Harry! Take this, it might come in handy." Fred shoved a piece of old parchment into Harry's hand.  
"Thanks so much," said Harry earnestly. "I really needed a bit of spare parchment. Snap set us a ton of homework, you see."

Lord Stumpy raised an eyebrow. "If you dare scribble something as trivial as homework on that, I'll send starved leeches after you."  
"That, Harry, is the secret to our success," said Fred in a very grave voice. "We're only giving it to you because it's a major plot point. And the co-authors tend to get rather snappish when we don't keep them."  
"You can use it to visit all sorts of places, including Hogs Vegas," continued Lord Stumpy. "The password to activate it is, 'Blue smurfs shall one day rule the world.' But don't forget to wipe it when you're done – you need to say 'Snap is an overlarge bat.'"

"Right," said Harry. "I can tell this was created by Hogwimps students.  
Still feeling a bit doubtful, he said very clearly to the parchment, "Blue smurfs shall one day rule the world."

He started when ink welled up across the parchment, scribing words in a Calligraphic, if not slight messy- handwriting:

_Messrs Lunar, Wagtail, Scrappers and Tongs Welcome Mr. Harry Potter to the Prowler's Plan._

Beneath these words was a full, accurate map of Hogwimps, including every exit and entry, secret tunnel and moving staircase. Each classroom was labeled, and hundreds of tiny pairs of footprints wandered about the page, with little titles underneath denoting the names of people. Exactly where Harry stood with Fred and Lord Stumpy, there were matching footprints with the names Harry Potter, Frederica Weasley and Georgina Weasley.

"Wicked awesome!" Harry cooed excitedly. "Thanks guys!"  
"You're welcome!" Fred clapped Harry on the shoulder. "And try to put in a good word for me with the brunette co-author." He winked upwards roguishly.  
_You're not too original for a smacked bottom._  
"Meep!" said Fred.

He and Lord Stumpy made a speedy exit, while Harry continued to study the Prowler's Plan. It was fascinating. He never knew that Snap's office had four wardrobes and three dressing rooms.

He suddenly spotted a passageway to Hogs Vegas drawn upon the Plan. The entrance was craftily hidden behind the tapestry of a large golden pig wearing a pinstriped suit and holding a pack of cards.

"If only I had guessed!" he thought to himself, as he pulled the material away to reveal a tunnel draped with neon Christmas lights.  
Tapping the Plan with his wand, he muttered, "Snap is an overlarge bat," and clambered through the entranceway.

He walked through the passage for about half an hour (guided by a mysterious troop of magical pixies when he had trouble with the way) and found himself walking out from behind a shelf in Sugar King Sweetshop.

There was such an array of shiny, coloured wrappers that he barely knew were to start focusing his gaze. Thousands of chocolates lined the walls, with flavours ranging from Arctic White to Peruvian Deep Soil Cocoa. As Harry looked around he noticed a few varieties of really weird sweets, which included Darth Vader gum ("now everyone can have a deep, melodramatic evil voice!") odd-looking Vampire Chews ("drool blood for a great party trick!") and Brussel Sprouts Gobstoppers ("fool Mum into thinking you're eating healthy!")

He took a step forward and bumped into Rhon and Hermitwo, who were giggling over a packet of Dorky Potter Pops.

Hermitwo gasped when she saw Harry. "What are you doing here? You're not allowed! Quick, eat this and explain everything!" She thrust a French Dictator Delight into Harry's mouth and he promptly transformed into a short, portly man with a walrus moustache.

"Well, Fred and Lord Stumpy gave me this awesome Plan of Hogwimps and it showed me a secret passageway which led here," said Harry. "Although now I know that this sweetshop is using my face and stereotypical glasses for humorous merchandise I'd rather go somewhere else."  
"Why not try the Three Hoovers?" said Hermitwo. "It's a pub which sells the best Butterwhisky."

Ten minutes later, and the three of them were seated in a booth in said pub, each holding Butterwhiskies, an amber-coloured drink which was 80% froth. Harry tried to take a sip and ended up making his moustache even bigger.

At that moment, the pub door swung open to admit Professor McGallstone, Professor Flotwack and Hiphag. They chose a booth a couple of metres from where the trio were sitting. Harry listened to Professor McGallstone order a small lemon juice, Professor Flotwack buy cucumber sandwiches and Hiphag heartily demand a barrel of mead.  
"We don't serve mead in barrels, sir," said the waitress, Madame Ros. "We can give it to you in a plastic bucket, if you like."

"That'll have ter do," mumbled Hiphag. As soon as the waitress left, Professor McGallstone sighed loudly and fanned herself with a napkin. "All of this week's commotion about Jocular Brown really makes one tired of the whole situation.  
"Indeed," said Professor Flotwak, who was about as tall as a runty potplant. "I must admit that it was quite a shock to hear that he had gone bad in the first place. You remember who his best friend was at Hogwimps when he was still a student, I presume?"

Hiphag shook his head sadly and somehow managed to break a lamp. "'Twas Jimmy Potter, Harry's own father. Who would have ever guessed that Brown would betray him to You-Know-Which-Smurf ten years later?"

"And he murdered his other friend, that Peter Pettigrew, just seven years ago. Brown disintegrated him so thoroughly with his evil magic that all they managed to retrieve of Pettigrew was a bootstrap."

"Well, anyway," said Professor McGallstone, checking her watch, "They're taking a long time with my lemon juice, and I really need to mark a few essays instead of sitting around discussing deep concealed plot information. Good day."

As she rose from her seat, she noticed the trio sitting down with half empty mugs in front of them.

"Hermitwo!" she clucked disapprovingly. "You need to be careful with the company you choose. French dictators are not ideal companions for a diligent Hogwimps student like you. I also need to discuss something else with you – apparently you did something odd in the sixth dimension last Tuesday. Please, dear, I know it can be confusing, but please try to be sensible while time-travelling!"

And with that she left the Three Hoovers, leaving Harry with what he knew was another annoying bout of angst. Rhon hesitantly offered him a cucumber sandwich.

Several sandwiches later (they seemed to have an oddly calming effect) and Harry was walking again through the neon-lighted tunnel back to Hogwarts. During the whole walk he couldn't stop wondering why no-one had ever told him of his parent's connection with Jocular Brown.

He didn't sleep well that night. The sheep he was trying to count were all flying on motorbikes and he lost track.


	11. The Fire Nanny

The next morning, he walked into the Common Room to find Rhon contentedly chewing on a large bushel of celery.

"Whoo! Negative calories!" he chortled, waving the celery at Harry. Harry raised his eyebrows slightly and edged away. "Er – where's everyone else?"  
"It's the holidays, remember? I'm just staying at Hogwimps because Mum forced – uh, I wanted to spend more time with you and Hermitwo. Yeah."

Hermitwo entered the Common Room to hear Rhon's last few words. She went misty-eyed, and Rhon tried in vain to break the atmosphere with several loud coughs (and a chorus of the Lumberjack song).

"Well, Rhon," said Hermitwo, "I am touched by the way you listen to your mother's advice." Rhon choked on his celery and had a real coughing fit this time.  
"On a slightly saner note," said Hermitwo, "Let's go visit Hiphag!"

Ten minutes later, and the trio were huddled together on Hiphag's doorstep wondering what the source of the weird noises coming from his hut were.  
"Kind of sounds like…a chicken on helium," Rhon decided, before the door was flung open and they were all embraced in a bone-cracking bear hug.

_"Snort snort snort_ you heard!" cried Hiphag.  
The story soon came out once Hiphag had collected himself. He had been sent a letter from the Ministry of Magic which stated that they were "going to snuff the Charlieduck for burnin' a tuft o' Malfoil's hair."  
"Nooooooo!" cried Rhon in horror. "That's inhumane!"  
"As if Malfoil's hair is real, anyway," Hiphag said between sobs.  
"Don't fret, Hiphag," said Hermitwo. "I'll make a pot of tea and everything will be better."  
"Tea?" Hiphap brightened up.

Their mood had dampened somewhat, however, by the time the trio were back in Grandmador tower, completely tea-less as the bad news settled in. It seemed to have affected Rhon more than the others.

"They can't do that!" he said, sniffing slightly.  
"I know!" said Harry. "It's practically a cross between a duck and a pony! Why on earth would they want to – (he gave Rhon a quick glance) er, put it to sleep?"  
"Exactly!" said Hermitwo furiously. "It's just because of Malfoil's incessant whining. If it weren't for him, no-one in their right minds would want to - um, send it to the Charlieduck home in the sky."

"There there, Rhon," said Harry, patting him on the back. "We'll find a way to save it."

The next morning dawned bright, early and Christmassy.  
"YEARRRGHHHHHHH!"  
Harry quickly ran downstairs to find Rhon ripping open a parcel with the enthusiasm of a four-year-old. "PREZZIES!" His expression was akin to an equal's sign with a capital 'D'.

"Presents, presents, presents!" Rhon sang cheerily.  
Harry rushed to unpack his own, before-  
"EAURGH!!!" shrieked Rhon. "Scrappy! Oh my gawd, Hermitwo's cat has killed him! Killed him dead! Oh Scrappy!"

Harry turned to see Rhon cradling a broken, furry lump in his hands. The rat didn't look particularly dead to Harry - only the tip of it's tail was missing, and it was giving both the boys a resentful glare.  
"Er- Rhon?" Harry said slowly.

Rhon looked up, puffy eyed and blotchy cheeked. "I never got to say goodbye, Harry! I never got to tell him all I wanted to say. I'll never frolic through fields of daisies with him again..."  
Harry didn't remember much daisy-frolicking involving Scrappy, though he did remember Rhon calling the rat a pansy.

"...I'll never again share a laugh with him over an iced moccachino in Hogsmeade..."  
There didn't seem to be any iced moccachinos in Harry's memory either. He did, however, remember a mug of hot coffee being flung at the rat.  
"... He'll never delight me with his witty banter and sarcastic pleasantries..."  
Harry was pretty sure the wittiest exchange between Rhon and his rat was 'gerroff you lousy piece of verminy vermin'.

"Why!" Rhon wailed. "Why must the good die young! What world is this that the parent outlives their child! What have I done? Scrappy! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo..."  
Harry blunk. "Are you done yet?"  
"Pretty much," Rhon replied.

At that moment, Hermitwo blundered downstairs dressed in a nightgown, with a large hourglass hanging around her neck.  
"Your cat killed my rat!" Rhon cried, stabbing his finger at her.  
Hermitwo yawned and rubbed a rheumy eye.  
"Mycatdidawotnow?"  
"Your. Cat. Killed. My. Beloved. Rat."

"Imsorryprofessorrhonitwonthappenagain."  
"Are you even listening?"  
Hermitwo shook her head, as if to clear it. "Something... something about a fish named Wanda? And a robotic chicken? And sparkly vampires?" She glanced down at herself, and with a blush of embarrassment, hastily hid the hourglass away in her nightgown.

Harry gaped at her.  
"KILL TEH KITTEH!" Rhon yowled, and launched himself across the room to tackle Hermitwo's cat. Unfortunately for him, the cat had better depth perception than he, and it stepped lightly out of the way, as Rhon crashed into a wall.

Harry coughed loudly and folded his arms. "Ex-CUSE me! Major plot point here!"  
Rhon and Hermitwo quickly pulled themselves together and stood to attention as Harry picked up a hoover-shaped, gift-wrapped package and ripped it open. He gasped theatrically.  
"I don't believe it! A hoover!"  
Rhon and Hermitwo gasped as well. Hermitwo tried to be extra dramatic by fainting.

_No brownie points for you there, btw._

"Darn it!" she said, getting up again.

Anyway, back to the hoover.

It was the shiniest, sleekest, and most amazing hoover Harry had ever seen in his life. Its nozzle seemed to proudly proclaim, "Oh yes. I'm great all right." And Harry had to agree. In fact, it looked very familiar… (almost as though a co-author had copied and pasted a couple of sentences…)

"Wait…isn't this the Fire Nanny 3000?" said Rhon, poking it.  
Harry snatched it away. "No touchy! And my goodness, you're right. Who in their right mind would pay such a huge sum of money (as well as a couple of spleens) just for a Christmas present?"

But there wasn't a card or anything else of the sort attached to the gift.  
Rhon looked suspiciously from left to right. When he decided that the room was free from evil assassins, he pounced in the hoover in glee.  
"Yayyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Harry and Rhon fangirl'd over it for several hours, commenting on everything from the bright purple of the plastic to the high-quality wheels. That is, until Hermitwo entered the Common Room with Professor McGallstone right behind her.

"I'm afraid I'll have to take this, Potter," said the latter. "I've heard from a certain source whose name I shall not divulge" – Rhon glared at Hermitwo – "that this hoover was sent to you anonymously. Don't worry, I don't do anything permanently damaging to it. I have a very useful hacksaw in a spare classroom which can help me determine whether or not this hoover is safe for use. Cheerio then!"

Rhon exploded after she left. "HERMITWO! How could you!?!?!"  
Hermitwo glared. "You know as well as I that the sender could very well be Jocular Brown!"  
Rhon snorted. "Your FACE is Jocular Brown!"

"My face is Jocular Brown?" Hermitwo cried. "Nay, Rhon Weasley- YOUR face is Jocular Brown."  
"Your MUM is Jocular Brown!" Rhon replied.  
"No, YOUR mum is..." Hermitwo said  
Harry zoned out at this point, and allowed the other two to argue pleasantly for the next few days, until term started again.


	12. The Tomatus

While they were eating breakfast on the first day of the new semester, Hermitwo pointed to Foxglove, who had fallen asleep in his cereal.  
"Goodness," she said. "He looks awful!"  
"That's not fair," Rhon snapped. "I'm sure if he got a haircut, and maybe cleaned the Coco-pops out of his eyebrows, he'd look alright..."  
Hermitwo rolled her eyes. "No, you dolt, I mean he looks sick."  
"Oh," said Rhon, enunciating the vowel very clearly.

"You're right, Hermitwo," Harry said. "He does look sick. I hope he'll be well enough to give me another lesson on repelling Dementopeels tonight."  
"He will be," Hermitwo said significantly.  
Both boys blinked at her.  
"What, you haven't figured it out yet?" she asked incredulously.  
More blinking.  
"I'm surrounded by IDIOTS," she sighed.

That night, Harry turned up at the Defense against the Dark Aardvark classroom, worried, but ready. Foxglove was there already, looking worn, like butter scraped over too much bread-

_We're going to steal Tolkien's similes and there isn't anything you can do about it._

"Oh, hello Harry," Foxglove said. "Are you ready?"  
"Didn't you read the last paragraph?" Harry asked.  
Foxglove shook his head. "I'm very tired, Harry. I'm having trouble concentration on half the stuff these authors keep drooling out."

_You're lucky I like you, Foxglove. Very lucky indeed._

"Pay close attention to what I say. The Tomatus Charm I will attempt to teach you tonight requires intensely strong concentration due to its intricate difficulty. Many qualified wizards have trouble perfecting it, so I implore you now to understand exactly how painstakingly difficult the whole process is."  
"Doesn't matter," said Harry breezily. "I'm the archetypal invincible hero, remember?"  
"True, true," said Foxglove. "But please at least look a bit apprehensive. You're ruining my moment!"

Foxglove's stature blurred in a whirl of his cloak and he reappeared holding a tomato.  
"Whoa," said Harry. "Classy."  
"In case of emergency," said Foxglove. "Now, you know what you're supposed to do – GO!"  
He flung open a wardrobe door and a Dementopeel walked out. Harry imagined the shiny red surface of a shiny tomato, and yelled, "Expecto Tomatum!"

A red chipmunk holding a pair of tongs sprouted from the end of his wand, chattering angrily. The Dementopeel retreated hastily into the wardrobe and shut the door behind him.  
"Well done, Harry, well done!" said Foxglove enthusiastically. "You'll be fine during any future Skeeditch pitch invasions! Now, chug down these ketchup packets or Madame Pomfrey will be after my blood. Literally," he said, glancing at a blood donor promotion poster on the war.

As Harry clambered back into Grandmador tower, he bumped into Professor McGallstone.  
"Hmm. Well, Potter, after our extensive examination of your broomstick we decided that it was safe for riding. And if there are any hidden jinxes which overlooked our careful notice, we reckon that Jocular Brown deserves the chance to knock you off if he has the ability to hide them so cunningly!"  
"Yay!" said Harry joyfully, snatching back the Fire Nanny.

When the next morning dawned, it brought with it the Ravenscoleslaw vs. Grandmador Skeeditch match. Harry, hardly nervous in slightest (when we say hardly, we mean he was slightly nervous... of Rhon turning him into a pickle again.) stroked his Fire Nanny, and was pleased to see the Slummin houses envious faces.  
"Oh noes!" Darko squealed. "Harry, what if Dementopeels come and eat you? What will you do?"  
"I only have to run faster than you, Darko," Harry responded, to the numerous guffaws of his team mates.

When they strode onto the Skeeditch pitch, Harry sized up his competition. The Ravenscoleslaw seeker was very pretty. Her name was So Wang Sti. She smiled warmly. Harry sniggered in a very teenaged manner.

The referee signaled both teams to mount their hoovers, and in the next second they were all soaring on the air. Harry patted his Fire Nanny 3000 fondly. It responded not only to his hairline movements but even to his thoughts, which he thought was quite a good trade for a small fortune and a spleen. Harry suddenly noticed the Snitch bobbing gingerly around one of the goal posts, and urged his hoover towards it.

So Wang Sti noticed what he was doing, and tore after him. Within a few seconds they were neck-to-neck. Within metres of the Snitch, Harry suddenly remembered his manners.

"After you," he said courteously to So Wang, motioning towards the goal posts. She obligingly dived for the Snitch.

Schwoodde, who had realised what Harry was doing from the other side of the pitch, began yelling. "YOU BETTER GET THE SNITCH, POTTE R, OR THERE'S MORE THAN MY WAKE-UP CALLS THAT YOU'LL BE IN FOR!"

Harry shook himself out of his reverie and dived for the Snitch, grabbing it picoseconds before So Wang did.

The crowd roared – after it had quieted down, Harry heard an odd "Whooooo," –ing noise come from the pitch below him. He looked down and saw three figures dressed in hooded yellow cloaks. Without a second thought he jinxed the lot of them with an extra-strong Acne Charm. His elation at winning the game only intensified when he discovered that they were Malfoil, Crabbe and Goyle. "Woot!"

There was much celebration in the Grandmador Common Room that evening. Harry lost count of the number of hands he shook and the amount of Peppermint Toads he consumed. Although, it seemed as though Hermitwo was keeping a strict tally.

In the midst of the jubilations, the portrait door swung open, and a scrubby-looking man with an unshaven look to him stumbled inside. His clothes looked like they hadn't been washed…since they were bought. He was holding a scrap of parchment with random words written on it.  
"Oi, that's _my_ password sheet!" snapped Neville Shortrear, snatching it back.  
"You idiot, that's Jocular Brown!" screeched Hermitwo.

The intruder looked slightly startled. "Dear me, I'm very sorry to be disturbing you all," he said politely. "But do any of you know the location of a small grey rat? And I would appreciate a cup of tea, if it's convenient. I haven't had one for the last twelve years."

The Common Room erupted into a cacophony of screams and flailing limbs as everyone began to run all over the place. With an annoyed expression and muttering "No manners…simply no manners at all," Jocular Brown quickly made his exit.


	13. Snap's Grudge

By the next morning, the story of Brown's break-in had circulated throughout the whole school. Individual wall-planks had been taught to recognise his smell, and everyone was on the alert.

"He was going to kill me, then eat my gooey gooey insides," said Neville to a group of shivering first-years. "I could see it in his eyes."  
"We all could have been eaten," Rhon broke in. "If it wasn't for my quick-thinking, we would have all been breakfast to the banana-eater."  
"Oooh, do tell us!" chirped the first-years.  
"It was like this," said Rhon. "He threw a flameball at me, but I managed to fend him off with my Wartortoise. They're impervious to fire, see. And then I got my Bulbasaur to do an advanced Leaf Attack –"  
Hermitwo chucked a spatula at his head.

"We should really go and visit Hiphag," said Hermitwo. "We need to tell him all that's been going on."  
"Yeah, maybe we can trade Pokemon cards!"  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Dude, that's so 1998. Digimon is in now."

But at that moment, a Hippofluffyduck flew through the window to deliver the trio a note. Hermitwo read it in horror.  
"Oh no…Hiphag's Charlieduck has lost the case! It will be executed in a week."  
Rhon started sobbing loudly.  
"Don't worry, Rhon!" said Hermitwo. "We'll save it somehow."  
"No, it's just not possible," Rhon bawled. "We'd have to be able to bend time and space to even stand a chance."

At that moment, a large black bat swooped down from the ceiling to land on Harry's head. Rhon yelped.  
"Darnit," said the bat in a familiar nasal voice. "I forgot to transform."  
And in the next few seconds, Snap appeared next to them.  
"To my office, Potter!" he said in a tone so triumphant that Harry knew he was dead.

"I'd like carnations at the funeral ceremony," he quickly told Rhon and Hermitwo. "And for heaven's sake, don't let them play 'Always Look On the Bright Side of Life…'"  
"NOW, Potter!" snarled Snap.

Once in the office, surrounded by jars of pickled somethings, Snap turned to Harry menacingly. Oddly enough, he couldn't seem to stop looking like his birthday had come early. Either that, or his shampoo had worked for once.

"Well, Potter," he said. "I've received reports of strange things occurring in the Slummin dormitories. Pranks, one would almost call them. And do you know what was found next to Malfoil's Glad-wrapped toilet this morning?"

Harry couldn't suppress a snigger. "What?"

Snap paused. "A pickle," he said in a tone of distaste.

Harry gasped.

"And you know what that means, Potter – a Grandmador has been infiltrating the Slummins! And with your connections to those ridiculous Weasley twins, I have no doubt it was yourself. Empty your pockets on my desk!"

Harry fervently wished he hadn't succumbed to the temptation of playing practical jokes on the Slummins. But, seriously, with the Prowler's Plan, who wouldn't?

Snap sorted through the mirrors, combs, and fan letters until he found a blank piece of parchment. "Ah," he said in a particularly mean voice, "Now, this looks familiar…"

He tapped the parchment with his wand, and said, "Reveal your secrets!"

Harry held his breath.

At first, Harry thought nothing had happened. But then a look of black rage crossed Snap's face. "What," he spluttered, "is the meaning of this?"

Snap thrust the Prowler's Plan under Harry's nose. To Harry's amazement (and amusement) it read, _We politely request that 'Professor' Snap keep his big nose out of other people's business, and stuff it up his jumper._

"I honestly have no idea," said Harry, because he didn't, but really wished he did.

"Show your secrets," Snap snapped again at the Plan. The words on the parchment melted away, then reformed into, _We continue to politely request that 'Professor' Snap begin stuffing his large olfactory sensors into his woollen article of upper body clothing._

"This is outrageous!"

_Make with the nose-jumper stuffing._

"Potter," said Snap, venom dripped from both syllables. "Explain this piece of insulting parchment by the time I count to three, or-"

"Or what?" asked Foxglove, who had been standing at the door the whole time. "Or you'll deduct a million kazillion points from Grandmador? For the possession of a silly piece of insulting scrap paper? Really Professor, I thought you were bigger than that."

Snap glowered, but handed the Plan to Foxglove. "Tell me what you think of it when it bruises _your_ ego," Snap growled.

Foxglove stared at the paper, tapped it with his wand, then folded it up and put it in his pocket. "I'll confiscate it, Mr. Potter. I don't want to see you running around with enchanted paper any more. We all know what happened last time."

There was a chirping of crickets.

Snap glanced around. "Apparently we aren't going to have a flashback, Professor Foxglove. I suggest you and Harry leave immediately, before I start deducting points from Grandmador for no reason."

Harry and Foxglove made a timely escape.


	14. Skeeditch Finals

The next morning dawned bright and early.

"Oh no, I know that line," Harry groaned. "There's going to be another Skeeditch match, isn't there?"

Darn right there is.

Harry rolled over and tried to get some more sleep, only consenting to crawl out of bed once Oliver Schwoodde made his morning rounds banging on a large saucepan.

A few spoonfuls of pickle-preserve at breakfast, and Harry went with the rest of the team to the changing rooms. He knew, along with everyone else, how important this match was for Grandmador. Skeeditch finals had been called off for the past two years due to events caused by a certain You-Know-Which-Smurf. This year, however, Schwoodde seemed determined not to let an evil wizard to cramp his style.

"WEASLEYS! I want you to Bludgeon the Slummins as much as possible, savvy? If they break a bone or something, you can tell their parents to sue this dude." He handed them a business card. "Tell them he's my rich half-goblin third cousin."

"Er…Schwoodde?" said Harry. "Don't you think you're being a bit too…tense about all this?"

Schwoodde's eyes looked positively bloodshot, and he ran a hand through his hair. Several large clumps fell out.

"Tense? Me? I don't know what you're talking about Potter. And see here –" he said, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, "If you're the cause of Grandmador losing this game, I will personally see to it that you will be the only Hogwimps student exempt from dessert for the rest of the year. "

Harry gulped.

The twins' friend, Smee Jordan, was commentating on the match. He called out the players names as they flew out onto the pitch, one by one:

"Ding-a-ling!"  
"Spinny!"  
"Weasel-face!"  
"His Wittiness Looooord Stumpy!"  
"The Grinch- Uh, I mean Schwoodde!"  
"Smoking haggis, does Potter have genuine Fire Nanny? Why didn't he show it to me, the twerp?"

Then it was the Slummins turn to fly out, to a loud chorus of 'Boo's,' which caused Snap to cast a Silencio charm on the whole stadium and Transfigure a particularly rowdy gang of Snuffeluff fourth-years into kumquats.

It was a particularly violent game. The Slummins seemed uninterested in scoring goals, but particularly intent on fouling against up all the Grandmador players. It was almost as if they already knew they were going to lose, and so were taking the rare opportunity of beating up Grandmadors without a high risk of detention.

After fifteen minutes into the game, Fred and Lord Stumpy had already handed out four phony business cards. It was just after the fifth when Harry spotted a glint of…fluoro green? With…bling-bling?

"That's right, dudes," sang the Snitch. "I had a makeover!"

Harry dived as quickly as he could, but the new gangsta Snitch seemed adamant on getting away whenever he tried to grab it.

"Please, S-Unit," he begged. "If I lose this game, I don't get Jell-O for the rest of the year!"

"WHAT? No Jell-O? Then I'll help you out, homie."

Harry pulled his Fire Nanny up into the air, holding the Snitch triumphantly. He was immediately knocked over by Schwoodde who seemed to be either hugging or suffocating him. The Keeper was followed by the rest of the team, until Harry, his Fire Nanny and seven Skeeditch players tumbled down to the pitch in a mass of crimson robes. They landed on about fifty first-years, who tried to lift them, but then toppled over and fell.

"Don't worry, y'all just need more time to practice the groove," said the Snitch wisely.


	15. An Odd Prediction

After the euphoria of the Skeeditch win had died down, the cloying, omnipresent horror of exams consumed the school. Harry, Rhon and Hermitwo found themselves swamped beneath piles of revision. Well, Hermitwo was.

"Argh!" Rhon said, pacing the Grandmador common room. "There's so many exams! So much stuff I don't know! What am I going to do?"  
Hermitwo gave him a cold look and said, "Well, you could always, you know, _study_."  
"Study?" Rhon wailed. "How can I study when I'm so stressed?"  
Harry rolled his eyes, a welcome ocular exercise after two hours of staring blankly at the first page of his History of Magic text book.  
Rhon ran his hands through his hair, and leaned over Hermitwo's table. "What have you got so far... hey!" He snatched a sheet of parchment away from Hermitwo, who jumped up and tried to grab it back.

"Look at this, Harry," Rhon said. He showed the parchment to Harry. "Hermitwo has loads of exams."  
"And?" Hermitwo snapped.  
"They're all during the same timeslot."  
"Don't be... uh... you're so... um... look! A distraction!" Hermitwo snatched her exam timetable away from Rhon as he stared goofily into space.

The next day was the divination exam, in which each student had to give a reading from a crystal ball. Harry was last on the list. He was not surprised. He knew narrative techniques, and he knew how hard it was to fit foreshadowing into an exam timetable.

When Rhon (the second last), descended from the divination tower, he looked slightly green.  
"How'd it go?" Harry asked.  
"T'riffic," Rhon gurgled. "Uh... Rabbit, Pillbox, Tourmaline."  
Harry frowned. "What?"  
"Don't ask, just know," Rhon replied, widening his eyes in a reasonable impression of Professor Tealeaf.  
Harry swallowed hard and began his ascent into the tower.

Professor Tealeaf swooped down on him like a large stick insect.  
"I predicted you would come at this time," she said in a bemused sort of voice.  
"Huh, really?" said Harry.  
"Sit down, child," she said, motioning at a particularly squishy looking beanbag. Harry plopped down on it.  
"Now," said Professor Tealeaf, indicating at the crystal ball on the desk in front of him, "All I want you to do is tell me what you see."

She held a quill and clipboard at the ready.

Harry cleared his throat. "Ahem. What I see. Yes. Well."  
He squinted into the crystal ball.  
"I see…a block of cheese! No, wait…two blocks of cheese! It looks like Brie!"

Professor Tealeaf scribbled something down. "Yes, dear – but what exactly are they doing there?"  
Harry continued his answer. "A dorky-looking guy with glasses is approaching – hey, it's me! I'm picking up one of the blocks of cheese…and eating it! My goodness, I'm actually eating it!"

Professor Tealeaf sighed. "I don't suppose you see yourself…well, being poisoned?  
"Certainly not," said Harry. "It looks like very nice cheese."

Suddenly, Professor Tealeaf dropped her clipboard, her eyes widening. She opened her mouth – for a moment Harry thought she was going to yell out 'FAIL!' but the voice which emerged did not sound like her own.

"The Smurf-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will regain his sidekick before midnight."

And on this enigmatic note, her expression turned back to normal.  
"Yes, about the cheese," she said, almost sadly, "Are you quite, quite sure it's not poisoned?"

"Professor, you just made a prediction!"  
"What are you talking about, child?"  
"Here, listen! I taped it on my iPhone!"

Professor Tealeaf listened to her strangely eerie voice with some interest. "Hmm…it's amazing what one can do with Muggle technology these days…may I play Pacman on that?"

"No way!" said Harry, snatching his iPhone back. "Well…fine then," he said, when he saw her lip wobble.

One he had finally escaped from the Divination tower, iPhone with only two new scratches, he met Rhon and Hermitwo in the Grandmador Common Room.  
"Man, I feel bad about that exam."  
"Why?" said Hermitwo. "Was it difficult?"  
"Not really. I just saw myself eating so much cheese, but it's only something that'll happen in the future."

Rhon was sniffling about something in the corner.  
"Can we visit Hiphag at the Charlieduck?" he said. "I miss it."

One the way to Hiphag's place, Draco Malfoil suddenly popped up in front of them, with his trademark smirk.  
"Going to comfort the giant, are you? Well, it's no use. Because the Charlieduck is going to GET IT, you hear? THAT'S a warning for all of you who want to mess with my hair."

Hermitwo whipped out an electric razor and pounced on Malfoil. Two minutes and several hundred high-pitched shrieks later, Malfoil was sporting a punk haircut, which might have looked hip to a couple of ogres in Florida. Only he didn't seem to think so. "I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS, SPAYNGER!!!!" he yelled.

Hermitwo coolly flicked him a business card. "It's Bond. James Bond."  
*spy music plays in background*


	16. Lolcat and Fake Rat

Fifteen minutes later, the trio was in Hiphag's hut, eating Cicada Donuts and endeavouring to cheer up their pal.  
"Mmmm, crunchy," said Hermitwo. "Which ingredients did you use, Hiphag? I like the metaphorical recipe title."  
"Er, actually, the title's not so me'aphorical, 'Ermitwo…" said Hiphag sheepishly.

Hermitwo choked, and Rhon slapped her on the back.  
"Come on, Hermitwo – it's good to try out new types of food now and then!"  
"It's not about the cicadas," Hermitwo said faintly, "It's Scrappy's tail!"

Rhon gave a high-pitched squeal and stared at his pet's tail protruding from Hermitwo's half-eaten donut. He pulled at it, and the rest of the rat came through.

"SCRAPPY!!!!! YOU'RE ALIVE!!!"

The rat glared at him resentfully and nibbled on some stray crumbs on his head.

"Well, I'm glad your pet gets ter live in this story," said Hiphag, sniffing. "But the executioner is coming ter finish off my beloved Charlieduck. Please leave now, kids, the next scene is rated PG 13+."

The three of them then began heading off the castle. Rhon paused to pat a stray brown dog. He immediately took two steps back once he saw Hermitwo's cat Schnookworthy behind it. The dog growled and grabbed Rhon's ankle, and dragged him towards the Smashing Shrub like he was an F1-11.

Schnookworthy said to the Shrub, "Can has peaceful entry?" and the two animals disappeared with Rhon into the bowels of the tree. Harry cast a fearful look back at Hermitwo, and they both ventured inside…

But not before an incredible, elaborate and exciting fight against the shrub, with much kungfu and roundhouse kicks and ninjaring in the night, none of which will be even hinted at here. Except for that sentence.

Harry and Hermitwo emerged from the Super Special Secret tunnel beneath the shrub and found themselves standing on a cold, dusty, wooden floor. All around them was cold, dusty, wooden furniture, and a large floor plan that read: 'Welcome to the {Shrieking Shack}. You are HERE.'

"Huh," said Hermitwo. "I wonder where we are?"  
"De jokes!" A voice screamed from upstairs. "Dey're so PREDICTIBLE!"

Harry and Hermitwo raced up the creaking staircase and burst into the bedroom from whence the voice had emanated. Jocular Brown looked up at them with sunken, bruised eyes. Rhon cowered in the corner.  
"Harry!" Jocular cried, leaping up. "How gut to zee you standink dere. I dought I vould never see James's son again."  
"Jocular Brown!" Harry cried unnecessarily.  
"Akshully, it's Jocular Braun. But danks anyvay."  
"You knew Harry's father?" Hermitwo asked. "And you're an animagus? Also, OMGFREAKYRAPISTMANARGH!"  
"Only two of those is true," said a cool voice, and into the room stepped none other than Foxglove himself. "My friend."  
"Herr Foxglove!" Braun cried, and there was a tender moment of friendship that was ruined by the distant noise of a million yaoi fangirls wetting themselves.

The trio yelped.

"YOU TRAITOR!" screeched Hermitwo. "YOU WEREWOLF!"  
Rhon winced. "Ouch."  
"No, it's true!" said Hermitwo. "Foxglove is a werewolf! And he's been on Jocular Brown's side all this time, trying to kill you, Harry!"

Foxglove tutted. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I daresay you need to research your facts a bit more. I am indeed a werewolf," he said, showing them his Canine Society membership card, "but I'm certainly not trying to kill Harry. And I've only realised that Brown was innocent this very night."

"How on earth –"  
Foxglove shushed them. "You'll all understand once I explain. On Harry's Prowler's Plan, saw the name of a wizard I believed to be dead for many years. A wizard in disguise as a rat – Rhon's rat, actually."  
"Not Scrappy!" said Rhon, annoyed.

"That isch nott a rat," said Brown, breaking his silence while glaring at Scrappy. "That isch an Animorph, by the name of Peter Pettigrew.


	17. The Animarauders

"Scrappy? A wizard in disguise? Impossible!" Rhon interjected. "You don't know how much he likes his cheese."  
"Well, you don't know Pettigrew like we do," said Foxglove grimly. He put the rat down on the floor and trapped it with his hat. Brown moved forward to squash it with his foot, but Foxglove stopped him.  
"No, fool!" he said sharply. "That's my best bowler. Besides, we need to explain stuff to Harry." Foxglove turned to the students.

"Right-oh, so I'm a werewolf," he said in a rather bored tone. "And in my transformed state, I become rather – shall we say, cranky. So, Professor Dumbledork very kindly arranged to let me visit a secret room hidden beneath the Smashing Shrub when full moon came around each month. Jocular here, Peter Pettigrew, and your father Jimmy, Harry, noticed that I was fuzzier than the average school-kid, and thus discovered my secret. They thought it was awfully unfair I got a whole room to myself every month in which to do what I like, so they trained to became Animorphs."

"What?" choked Harry. "That's a Muggle sci-fi series!"

"Is it really?" said Foxglove with interest. "Well, what do you know; some of these Muggles aren't as unobservant as we assume them to be. Jocular could turn into a dog; Peter, a rat, and Jimmy, a –"  
"Andalite?" said Hermitwo hopefully.  
"No, but it's quite interesting actually, Jimmy could turn into a –  
"Wait a sec," interrupted Hermitwo. "But I've read that there have only been five registered Animorphs in the world! And they're all in America!"  
"Well, in actual fact, there were four unregistered Animorphs running around in the United Kingdom," said Foxglove ruefully.

In the next moment, a bat fluttered down from the ceiling and transformed into Professor Snap, pointing his wand straight at Jocular Brown. "Make that five," he said with a particularly evil smirk. He was also holding a Water Blaster. Foxglove and Brown could recognise defeat when they saw it, so they put their hands in the air in resignation.

Harry, however, wasn't going to get in trouble on Snap's account.  
"Hey, a Blibbering Humdinger!" he said, pointing to a corner of the room.  
Snap snorted. "You don't honestly think" – His head spun around. "Where?"

Harry grabbed the nearest candelabrum (which was, luckily, within five metres of his reach) and bonked him on the head.  
Hermitwo gasped. "You attacked a teacher!"  
Harry chucked the candelabrum in the corner and whistled rather unconvincingly. "Who, me?"

Foxglove continued monologuing like the last five minutes had never happened. "It wasn't Brown who betrayed your parents, Harry – it was Pettigrew. He framed Black twelve years ago. Jocular Brown would never sell your parents to Voldesmurf, Harry – he was your parents' closest friend for many years. Your fairy godfather, in fact, and it seems that even while imprisoned in Azkabanana, he tried to keep up his duties to you…"

"I don't know how buying expensive gifts come into the deal, though," muttered Brown. "That Fire Nanny cost a fortune…now," he said, grabbing Scrappy and brandishing his wand, "Let's reveal the true identity of this rodent."

There was a loud BANG, and a short, plump and balding man was sitting on the floor in front of them.  
"Oh hai!" he said with a strained smile. "So sorry I can't stay, I really need to go and – uh, watch my chicken defrost…"

Ropes appeared out of nowhere and bound Pettigrew from eyebrow to toenail. "Not so fast," Foxglove growled. "I think Azkabanana will have a new inmate before much longer."

Brown levitated both Pettigrew and the unconscious Snap, then made his way through the tunnel towards Hogwimps with them bobbing along behind him. Foxglove and the trio followed him.

Once they were outside, in the clear dark night, Foxglove suddenly cursed strongly.  
"Oh, bloomin' poopies! It's full moon!"  
And with a pop, he turned into a large, full-grown werewolf, growling menacingly at everyone around him.

"RUN!" bellowed Jocular Brown. "I'LL HOLD HIM OFF!" With a similar pop, he transformed into a golden beagle. Hermitwo squee'd.  
The beagle began yipping furiously at the werewolf, which whimpered and ran towards the Forbidden Forest, tail between its legs.

But at that moment, the air turned very cold. The disgusting, strong scent of rotting bananas filled the air.

Harry turned around slowly – his mind couldn't seem to work properly. A huge troop of Dementopeels was heading right towards them, fingers stretched out menacingly.

Jocular Brown had reverted back to his human form. He was lying on the ground with Hermitwo and Rhon, and for all purposes of discussion, looked rather dead.  
"No," croaked Harry. "Expecto Tomatum…Expecto Tomatum…"  
He struggled to think of a shiny, red tomato as the sickening smell drew into his lungs.  
"Expecto Tomatum…. Expecto Tomatum!"

A thin wisp of silver vapour escaped his wand, but soon disappeared. The Dementopeels were approaching, ever closer…

And through the trees of the nearby forest, he thought he saw a silvery light, growing brighter and brighter – he saw a small animal bounding towards the Dementopeels, which were miraculously backing away…

And then Harry fainted.


	18. Hermitwo's Pal

Harry woke up in the hospital wing, Hermitwo and Rhon on his left and right side respectively. He groaned, then sat up.  
Rhon looked like he was still out cold. Hermitwo, however, was fiddling with something that looked like a cross between a clock and an hourglass.

"Hermitwo, what are you doing?"  
Hermitwo jumped, startled by his voice. "You're finally awake! You've been unconscious a week."  
"What've I missed?"  
"Well, Foxglove was sacked for being highly irresponsible while in werewolf form, then sued for tearing up Hiphag's carrot patch – Pettigrew escaped to rejoin The Smurf Who Must Not Be Named, obviously – the Charlieduck's…er, snuffed it, and Brown's in Azkabanana again, despite that fact that he's innocent. Oh, and the entire wizarding world is in general chaos and disorder. Ain't it all just peachy?"  
Harry gasped. "I've failed everyone! That means I'm out of a job!"

"Not quite yet!" said Hermitwo, still fiddling with the odd contraption. "We're going to go back in time and patch everything up. Oh yes, I have the means to do it," she said in response to Harry's bewildered expression. "How else do you think I survived my impossible timetable? I only managed it with the help of –"

There was a sudden whooshing noise. A large blue police box appeared in the middle of the room, with a blinking blue light on the top. A tall, brown-haired man in a suit stepped out grandly, then tripped over on the carpet. "Darn!" he said.

Harry stared at him.

Hermitwo climbed out of bed and gestured towards the man, who was now waving something that looked like a large silver pen around the room, and was looking very curious.  
"Harry, this is the Doctor. Doctor, this is Harry."

The Doctor grinned widely, and shook Harry's hand. "Brilliant! Harry Potter! I'm a big fan, cried when the last book came out, fantastic. Oh, sorry, right, it appears I've fallen through an inter-dimensional rift and now I'm in your causality... Amazing, I thought the TARDIS would've stopped but there it is... have you seen any Daleks around?"

Harry gaped. Hermitwo whispered to him, "He always talks like this. Just smile and nod."  
Harry did so.  
"Right, well," the Doctor said. "Where do you want to go? I can give you a lift, since you're Harry Potter."  
"Back in time?" Harry ventured.  
"Cor, back in time? 'Course I can take you back in time. I can take you forwards too. And sideways, and upsidedownways and frontways and backways and subways."  
"Just back, thanks."

The Doctor gave a cheery "Righty-oh," and then stepped back into his machine. Harry and Hermitwo followed. Harry was only mildly surprised that it was larger on the inside.  
"So, back, right? How far? A week and three hours?"  
"Yes," said Hermitwo.  
"And then you'll go and save the world?"  
"Yep."  
"OH GOD I'M ALL ALONE IN THE UNIVERSE. MY WHOLE SPECIES DIED TO SAVE US AND I'M SUCH A LONELY PERSON EVEN THOUGH I NEVER REALLY LIKED MOST OF THE OTHER TIMELORDS ANYWAY!" the Doctor wailed.

Harry patted him gingerly on the shoulder. "Erm…y'know, Doctor, we do have a world to save right now."  
"Yes, indeed," said the Doctor, wiping his nose on the thing nearest to him, which happened to be Hermitwo's sleeve.  
He pressed a few buttons, and with a great deal of smoke (INSIDE the police box, for some strange reason) Harry felt himself whoosh back in time in a mixture of twisted logic and rubber duckies…

Despite leaving at midnight and going back in time exactly one week and three hours, Harry and Hermitwo stumbled out of the TARDIS at seven thirty at night, thus proving that the trousers of time are more twisted then anyone believes.  
Hermitwo waved to the TARDIS, but it was already fading away in a whooshing sound.  
"What an odd man," said Harry.  
The pair quickly made their way down to Hiphag's hut, where they spied the Charlieduck tied up to a pole.

A few plot contrivences later, and Harry and Hermitwo had stolen the Charlieduck and had bunkered down in the forbidden forest to await the time when they might have a chance of saving Jocular.  
"Hang on," said Hermitwo slowly. "I seem to remember... this isn't a very good hiding spot."  
"Why?" asked Harry.  
The pair were silent for a moment.  
"Hey," said Hermitwo. "Do you feel a hot breeze on the back of your neck, Harry, or is it just me?"  
"I don't know," Harry confided. "But does that long, silvery, semi-viscous liquid rope hanging in front of us look like drool to you?"  
Their eyes met, and then, in unison, they looked up.  
Foxglove the werewolf leaned over them, snarling.

They screamed. They ran. Very fast.

Harry ran right while Hermitwo ran left, pulling the Charlieduck after her.  
He ducked under a branch and heard the werewolf shriek as the branch hit it in the face. He skidded round a tree, and... Dementopeels. Dementopeels everywhere.  
"Expecto Tomatum!" Harry screamed, and the bright silvery light of a huge tomato burst from his teatowel, and flew through the air. The Dementopeels shied away. Even the werewolf seemed frightened.

After that, there was a quick literary montage where Harry and Hermitwo flew the Charlieduck up to Jocular and let him free. This flight was in no way symbolic, and did not represent the love that Harry and Hermitwo shared, because sometimes flying on the back of a Charlieduck is just flying on the back of a Charlieduck.

Suddenly, after only a paragraph, Harry found himself in Foxglove's office.  
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, staring at all the packed suitcases.  
"I'm resigning," Foxglove said. "Not many parents want a... want a person like me teaching their children."  
"Oh," said Harry knowingly. "I get it. It's symbolism."  
Foxglove raised an eyebrow.  
Harry continued. "It all makes sense now."  
"What makes sense now?" said Foxglove.  
"The symbolism."  
"What symbolism?"  
"About lycanthropy. You know... full moon, all that."  
"I have absolutely no idea what you are implying. I can only assume that you are on drugs." Foxglove patted Harry on the head, and then left until book five.


	19. More Hippofluffyducks

The trio lounged on their seats in the Hogwimps Express, munching on Chocolate Newts and discussing the events of their third year.

"It's a pity that Foxglove resigned to teach somewhere else," said Harry. "He was way better than Heartlock and Squirrell."  
"Who will be our teacher next year?" said Hermitwo in a worried tone. "I hope Professor Dumbledork knows who he's choosing…"  
"Come off it, Hermitwo," sniggered Rhon. "You're so paranoid – it's like you think he'll pick a Death Eater in disguise or something."

Hermitwo sighed. "I suppose you're right...I ought to stop worrying so much. But guess what? Since I'm dropping Divination for Dingbats, Advanced Pottery, Cooking for Dummies…" she ticked the subjects off her fingers, "I'll have a normal timetable…so I won't need Dr Who's help anymore!"  
"But he'll always be on hand when we need a bit of assistance in time-related matters…" said Rhon, tapping his nose.

Harry pointed out the window. "What on earth is THAT?!"

A tiny ball of brown fluff was banging against the train, holding an envelope which looked about three times as heavy. Harry quickly opened the window and let the miniscule Hippofluffyduck inside the compartment. Tearing open the letter, he read:

_Dear Harry,_

The Charlieduck and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this letter gets intercepted and falls into the wrong hands. I think the Dementopeels are still searching for me.  
Please remember to send me regular supplies of food (particularly filet mignon). Whatever canon says, I am NOT willing to live on rats. My new address is 32 Bumbington Road, North Yorkshire.  
I am enclosing something for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwimps involve less sneaking around the castle. Tch. Young people.

Jocular Brown

P.S. Since it's my fault Rhon no longer has a rat, he can go stuff his nose up a jumper – I mean, he can keep the Hippofluffyduck.

Harry pulled out a completed permission slip to Hogs Vegas from the envelope. "SCORE!"  
Rhon grabbed the small Hippofluffyduck zooming around their heads. "DOUBLE SCORE!"  
"TRIPLE SCORE!" cried Hermitwo, simply because she felt like saying something.

As the train pulled into the station, the trio bounded out towards what seemed like a much more enjoyable holiday than the last.

THE BEGINNING

(That's right, we're cooler than George Lucas.)


End file.
